


Liam's Pretty Panties

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re cotton and such a pale pink they’re nearly white, with faint yellow trim on the waistband and a bow right in the center. Liam bought them in a pack of three at a Wal-Mart outside Chicago in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liam's Pretty Panties

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mistresscurvy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistresscurvy/gifts).



> I promised mistresscurvy I would write her some Liam in panties approximately 6886 months ago. I'm finally making good. So is Harry, hurr hurr hurr. 
> 
> Happy New Year, bb. <3

In some ways, Liam wishes he’d had time to prepare for this. He wishes he’d maybe had time to think about shaving his legs and his cock, or at the very least start trying to wrap his brain around it happening, but maybe it’s better he didn’t. If he’d had time to dwell on this before it started, he’d probably have called the whole thing off, and then he wouldn’t have this: Harry sprawled out on Liam’s hotel bed in just his pants, gazing at Liam through heavy-lidded eyes while Liam drags his pink panties up his thighs.  


They’re nothing remarkable, his panties. They’re cotton and such a pale pink they’re nearly white, with faint yellow trim on the waistband and a bow right in the center. Liam bought them in a pack of three at a Wal-Mart outside Chicago in the middle of the night, burying them in his basket under an assortment of bandaids and socks and mouthwash.

“Pretty,” Harry murmurs from the bed, palming his prick through his pants. “Looks good, yeah?"

Liam shrugs, face burning. His dick is mostly hard, nestled in the cotton of the panties. He wants to touch it, but he stops himself. He’s not sure why, exactly; it’s his dick and he’s been pretty comfortable touching it for as long as he can remember. But something about the expression on Harry’s face is making Liam want to wait. It makes him want to do and be exactly what Harry wants. It makes him want to recapture that hot and heady look that Harry’s eyes had taken on when he’d gone into Liam’s bag for floss and come out with the panties instead.

“It is pretty. You’re pretty like that.” 

Liam ducks his head. “Shut up.” 

Harry frowns. “Why? You don’t want to be pretty?” His voice has taken on a teasing tone, one Liam is wildly familiar with, and his dick gives a little jump, making his breath catch.

“No,” Harry goes on. “No, I think you want to be pretty, yeah?” 

Liam shrugs again, but his dick is fattening up and Harry has to be able to see it. 

Harry’s breath catches; he plants his feet on the bed and rolls his hips up, pressing his erection into his palm. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, you’re my pretty girl, aren’t you?” 

“Harry,” Liam manages, voice strangled. His skin prickles, sweat gathering at the back of his neck. “Come on, shut up.” He swallows hard and glances down at the bulge in his panties. “You—you really think I’m pretty?” 

“Oh love,” Harry says, his voice syrupy-thick. “Love, you’re gorgeous. So pretty in your panties. They look so soft. Lemme touch ‘em, yeah? See if they’re soft as they look?” 

He’s not sure how it happens. One moment he’s standing across the room with his heart in his throat, and the next, he’s kneeling next to Harry on the bed as Harry rubs a thumb over the hollow of Liam’s hip, dipping down under the waistband of his panties and then coming back up again to brush against the soft skin of his belly. Liam sucks in a breath, gaze fixed on the soft, slow way Harry is touching him. 

And it’s not the first time Harry has touched him. Harry has touched him and he’s touched Harry. He’s touched Louis when the occasion for it made itself known, and Harry and Zayn have traded more handjobs than the rest of them combined. They’ve all done this, because it feels good and sometimes they’re too high or bored or locked down to go out and find someone else to cop off with, but every other time, it’s been a mate helping another one out. It’s been laughter and mouths banging together and “Come on, do me and I’ll do you,” and rolling around on huge beds with legs tangled and laughter sneaking out of their half-hearted kisses. 

This time, though. This is something else. This time is Harry touching Liam like he’s something fragile and scared. This time is Harry calling Liam pretty, and this time is Liam wanting to be pretty. He is fragile and he is scared, and his heart is probably about to fly into a million pieces and escape his chest. 

Harry smiles up at him, slow and wicked, and their gazes catch and hold. “Wanna touch you,” he murmurs. “Wanna get your cunt all warm and slick for me.” 

“Oh fuck,” Liam groans out, and that’s it. He’s done. He can’t hold back any more. He falls on Harry, kissing him with a wet, sloppy abandon and Harry just takes it all, curving one of his huge hands around Liam’s hip and pulling at him until he’s straddling one of Harry’s thighs. 

“Yeah,” Harry gasps out, shoving up so that Liam is forced to ride the roll of his hips. “Yeah, you like that? You want me to talk about your pretty cunt? So pink and slick under your panties?” 

Liam shudders and moans, pushing down, carding his hands through Harry’s hair and yanking at him. “Harry, please.” 

They kiss like that for long minutes, tongues sliding against one another and teeth catching at lips. Harry is bucking up against Liam and it’s all Liam can do to hang on, get his dick fitted up against Harry’s. “Come on,” he groans again and again. His heart thunders. If Harry wasn’t clutching him so tightly, he’d probably fly apart. 

“Let me, fuck, Liam.” 

The room grows hotter and their touches clumsier. Harry slides out of his pants at some point, but Liam keeps his panties on, because he likes how they feel, and even better is the way Harry’s eyes are so heavy on him, his breath uneven and ragged. He’s almost proud of making Harry look like that. He’s not thrown by much, Harry isn’t, but he’s so done in by the sight of Liam’s panties that Liam would know it, even if Harry wasn’t kneading his arse and grunting as he fucks down into the crease of Liam’s thighs. 

“Wanna fuck you,” Harry says. He pries Liam’s arsecheeks apart and shoves his fingers against Liam’s arsehole over the cotton of his panties. “Yeah, fuck.” 

His movements are fumbling and awkward, not at all the self-assured fuck he’s been these past few years. It makes Liam’s chest swell up with pride. He shoves back into the touch and hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his panties. 

“No,” Harry says, pulling back far enough to grab Liam’s wrists. “No, just—leave them on, yeah?” He slides two fingers under the elastic around Liam’s thigh and dips them into the slit of his arse. 

“Shit,” Liam groans, but he nods. His panties get stretched out, but he doesn’t mind too much. Not when Harry is rolling him over and licking the small of Liam’s back. 

“Gonna eat you out first,” Harry murmurs against the swell of Liam’s arse. 

“Oh fuck,” Liam manages as Harry pulls his panties aside and licks over his asshole. He’s never particularly gone in for rimjobs, can’t usually get past the idea of it to enjoy the sensation of it, but Harry isn’t giving him any time to freak out. He’s got his face buried in Liam’s ass, mouthing it messily and groaning so that the vibrations of it make Liam’s cock thud with want. Harry is loving it too, if the noises he’s making are any indication. 

Harry wraps one hand around Liam’s hip and draws him upward, moving with him, never releasing Liam’s arse from his mouth. Liam lets Harry move him, his head hanging heavy between his shoulderblades. Sweat is dripping off his forehead, and his panties are obscene, stretched out over his dick. Even in the shadow their bodies make, it’s obscene. The thick jut of it, the way the dark hair wraps around the base of it, and all of it trapped under the tiniest little yellow bow. Liam stares at it, swollen and ready, and Harry hasn’t even touched it. 

“Fuck, Harry, I can’t—” Liam reaches between his legs and grips his cock. Harry pulls back and sucks in a desperate breath. 

“Yeah,” he says. “You gonna play with your clit for me, baby? Get yourself all wet for me? We’re almost there, yeah?” 

Whatever Liam was going to say is lost as he presses his face into the pillow and groans. He works his cock, not even jerking it or stroking it, just squeezing brutally with no sense of rhythm or finesse. All he wants is pressure. That’s it. Harry on his knees behind him, eating out his cunt is nearly enough to push Liam over the edge.  He just needs a little bit more, just the tiniest bit and…

Harry shoves his tongue in deep and closes his mouth around Liam’s hole, moaning hungrily, and Liam loses it all over the duvet. He’s shocked by the sounds clawing their way out of his throat, but the pleasure is so fucking good he can’t bring himself to care about them. He moans through his orgasm, fucking back onto Harry’s tongue and rubbing at his clit until the shudders stop. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Harry says, pushing Liam down into his spunk and clawing at Liam’s panties. They rip and Harry swears again. “Sorry, fuck. I can’t—”

“’s okay,” Liam slurs. He tips his hips upward. 

“It’s gonna have to be,” Harry says, and after another moment of fumbling—the click of a bottle cap, the ripping of foil, Harry’s groan as he fists the condom around his dick—Harry spreads Liam’s arse again and slides in. 

This is more than they’ve ever done together. Much, much more, and Liam wonders absently as he floats on the edge pleasure, listening to Harry’s grunts as he works his dick into Liam’s cunt, if they can come back from this. 

Then Harry pauses and lays himself out on Liam’s back and presses the sweetest, smallest kiss to his neck. 

“You good?” he murmurs, rubbing his cheek over Liam’s shoulder. 

“So good,” Liam says, and he really, really is.  
  
  



End file.
